


What to (not) expect when you're expecting.

by AnonymousPoet



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Comedy, M/M, Mpreg, Sassy Isak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 10:45:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11378595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousPoet/pseuds/AnonymousPoet
Summary: “Listen” Isak starts, suppressing a groan when a fresh wave of cramps from hell decides to make his life even more miserable. “Satan’s fucking cha cha-ing inside my intestines.”Just then, the face of his smiling boyfriend appears from the kitchen, when he moves towards Isak holding a cup of what smells like tea –even from two solid feet away. He looks smug, the bastard.And Isak doesn’t appreciate this, not at all. “You’re enjoying this!” there’s a furrow in his sweaty, clammy brow, and a scowl on his baby face –which suggests that he, on the contrary, is very much not enjoying this. “Admit it. You are enjoying  the fact that –Ow.” He gestures emptily at himself, almost hitting the teacup and driving its scorching hot content all over the bed.





	What to (not) expect when you're expecting.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses for this. Here we go.

So, here’s the thing.

Isak doesn’t get sick. Every two months, just like clockwork, Even will get a cough or a sore throat, a light fever or a nasty case of food poisoning. And punctual like taxes, he will mutter in an accusing tone to his boyfriend something petty and dramatic about how unfair it is that he does not have to deal with those kinds of hardships.

Isak last caught a cold when he was twelve, and even then it lasted four days and then it was magically gone.  So, you know, it comes as a surprise when on Friday evening, instead of being out with the boys to celebrate Eva and Jonas getting back together, he’s lying on the bed with his hands firmly planted onto his belly. His very sore, very cramping belly.

“For the third time, Isak, you are not dying!”

“Listen” Isak starts, suppressing a groan when a fresh wave of cramps from hell decides to make his life even more miserable. “Satan’s fucking cha-cha-ing inside my intestines.”

Just then, the face of his smiling boyfriend appears from the kitchen, when he moves towards Isak holding a cup of what smells like tea –even from two solid feet away. He looks smug, _the bastard_.

And Isak doesn’t appreciated this, not at all. “You’re enjoying this!” there’s a furrow in his sweaty, clammy brow, and a scowl on his baby face –which suggests that he, on the contrary, is very much _not enjoying this_. “Admit it. You are enjoying  the fact that –Ow.” He gestures emptily at himself, almost hitting the teacup and driving its scorching hot content all over the bed.

“Of course I’m not, Isak” fucking condescending Even. With his _stupid_ tea and his _stupid_ voice and his _stupid_ smile and- and his, his _stupid stupidity_. “I could never enjoy the fact that for once you are the ill one.” And he has the –the audacity to say that with a mocking tone! Like, he even brings a hand to his chest.

“You don’t love me” Isak grumbles, turning on his side and hugging his knees to his chest in a pathetic, vain attempt to lessen the intensity of the cramps. It doesn’t work.

He refuses the tea, because Even made it, and Even does not love him, and he’s happy Isak’s sick. So, to hell Even with the whole teacup, he doesn’t need him. “And you are a very bad nurse. The worst.”

He picks up his phone. He snorts (battery’s at 7%), glares very pointedly at the picture of him and Even on his lock screen, and unlocks it.

 

* * *

 

**Jonas**

not coming tonight bro

?

got Satan in my guts

permanent residence and all

signed the lease

just wish he’d pay rent

you sure you’re okay

 

did you not catch the part in which im harbouring the literal antichrist below my colon

 

you still got your sarcasm you’re fine

have fun

 

* * *

 

If he falls asleep with his phone planted on his right cheek, ten minutes later, no one has evidence.

***

The next morning he seems to have already forgiven Even, as they are so close on the couch they might as well be one person. Even is spooning him from behind, large hands resting on his still sore belly under the thin t-shirt he’s wearing. Sometimes he massages the warm skin there (because he’s feeling guilty, probably, and he has a thing for using his hands to make amends).

“I love you” he says, placing a chaste kiss against Isak’s earshell.

“My mouth tastes disgusting” Isak grumbles in response, smacking his lips to drive his point across. He seems to think about it for a while “Like, uh. Metal and meat seasoning”.

“That’s oddly specific”

“Yeah, you try having metal and meat seasoning in your mouth and then” he yawns loudly “then we’ll see” is he looking for a fight? His tone is acidic and pointed. Even squints his eyes.

He resumes his little belly massage.

Isak falls asleep again.

***

 

“Even” is barely a whisper coming from the bathroom, inaudible over the sounds of shooting coming from the play-station. “Even!” this is definitely louder, and more panicked. The urgency is easy to detect, and maybe that’s what brings Even to actually pause the game mid zombie-apocalypse and get up, moving towards the bathroom.

“Yes, babe?” mind you, his tone is _not_ annoyed.

“I’m bleeding” it’s feeble again, but he can hear it because the evening is unusually quiet, and he’s now pausing at the door, leaning slightly towards the doorframe.

“Did you cut yourself?” Eyebrows that go and pinch themselves together. This was not worth pausing the game for.

“My ass is bleeding, you piece of shit.” He waves his underwear in the air, where some spots of dried blood disturb the light grey colouring. “I’m literally bleeding out of my asshole” the words are frantic, slurred and Isak stands there, wide-eyed while he speaks.

“Baby. Whatever you do, don’t goog-“ he starts, palms high up in the air, moving one slow step in Isak’s general direction as if he was a wounded animal.

“Google says I have cancer, Even!” there we go. The boy’s eyes are now filled with small tears, as he clutches his iPhone in the underwear-free hand.

“Let’s go see a doctor, uh? Would you like that, baby?”

In the car Isak texts Mahdi he can have his snapbacks when he dies. Mahdi is obviously unimpressed, but appreciates.

***

Two hours later find them sitting in front of a bored-looking doctor: she has annoying glasses that tilt a bit to the left, and her pink nail polish is a bit chipped on the index finger.

“Cramps, you said...” she starts, looking at them over the brim of her tilted glasses and scribbling something on a notebook.

“Yeah. And I had this weird taste in my mouth and today I saw I was, I was bleeding!” he speaks fast, gesturing wildly.

She seems to be thinking, for a moment. Her gaze slips down to his belly and she scratches her head with her right hand.

Even stares at her glasses.

“Well, I have reason to believe the pain you mentioned might be implantation cramps. And, as the bleeding you have experienced -which we call implantation spotting, the metallic taste is very common during pregnancy"

"During _what_?" that's Even. 

"Bathroom is over there" she only says, pushing a small plastic container (clean and unopened) towards Isak, letting it slide on the desk. It's one of those little jars used to test urines. Isak barely flinches, before getting up.

This was going to be a _long_ night.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to yell about assbabies in the comments.


End file.
